The reeking horror of it all I knew:
I flung myself into the furnace there;
I faced the flame that scorched me with its glare;
I drank unto the dregs the devil’s brew–
Look at me now–for you and you and you.…)
I’m thinking of the time we said good-by:
We took our dinner in Duval’s that night,
Just little Jacqueline, Lucette and I;
We tried our very utmost to be bright.
We laughed. And yet our eyes, they weren’t gay.
I sought all kinds of cheering things to say.
“Don’t grieve,” I told them. “Soon the time will pass;
My next permission will come quickly round;
We’ll all meet at the Gare du Montparnasse;
Three times I’ve come already, safe and sound.”
(But oh, I thought. It’s harder every time,
After a home that seems like Paradise,
To go back to the vermin and the slime,
The weariness, the want, the sacrifice.
“Pray God,” I said, “the war may soon be done,
But no, oh never, never till we've won!”)
Then to the station quietly we walked;
I had my rifle and my haversack,
My heavy boots, my blankets on my back;
And though it hurt us, cheerfully we talked.
We chatted bravely at the platform gate.
I watched the clock. My train must go at eight.
One minute to the hour… we kissed good-by,
